Waking Up
by CloakedSherlock
Summary: When John wakes up from a coma, he finds out that he dreamt up Sherlock and all of his friends, and that they don't really exist. After going through therapy, he finds a miracle. Please review/follow as it motivates me to write more. Thanks and enjoy the story!
1. Waking Up

John woke up from a dream that takes place on the battlefield.

He had a patient in front of him just moments away from death. His right shoulder is torn up completely, staining the surrounding areas with a crimson red. A bullet was lodged in deeply between his shoulder blade and his spine. This soldier has survived many fatal injuries, but this one may be his last. John happened to be the only healthy doctor left, so it was all up to him. As he steadily removed the bullet, more soldiers were waiting to be treated. He quickly cleaned the wound then stitched it up. The next soldier had been shot in the lower stomach. He examined the wound and found that this was rather easy to fix, for many injuries were the same as this one. Just when he about to remove the bullet, he was shot in the leg. The pain was coursing all throughout his leg. He yelled in agony and looked down at the wound. Blood was running down from where he'd been shot.

That was when he woke up. He had so much adrenaline running through him that John never really realised where he was. When he took a few moments to look around, he found himself sitting in a hospital bed. He looked at his leg and saw it all bandaged up. Was he really dreaming?

He tried to get up, but he winced once he put weight on his wounded leg. A doctor came in once John sat back down on his bed. "Oh you're awake! It's about time. We were getting worried. How do you feel?" the doctor asked. She was a tall, brown eyed woman with black hair cut just past her jawline. Her fingers were slim and had dark blue nail polish on her nails. John looked around the room again. "How long have I been here?" He asked the woman.

"Ever since you've been shot. It's been two years." She said. John gasped. It couldn't have been that long. "Has Sherlock come to visit at all?" John asked. The doctor had a confused expression which was instantly replaced with regret. "No one has, John. We tried ringing family, but nobody answers." John shook his head. "No. Sherlock would have visited me. Come on, are you sure?" He asked. "No calls? E-mails? Nothing?"

The doctor shook her head. Nothing. "What's his number, I'll call it." John gave her Sherlock's number, but the man who answered wasn't him. He tried giving Molly's number, Mycroft's, Mrs. Hudson's, and even Irene's. People answered, but none of them knew who John was.

"We'll try finding them later, John." The woman said. "Right now, how about you go freshen up a bit, okay?" She led John to the bathroom, where he took a shower and got dressed. He looked at himself in the mirror. He's changed quite a bit. His hair has grown out more; his face looks as if it'd become sadder. His eyes were dull and seemed to have lost colour. He stood there for what felt like forever to him.

He snapped out of his daze when he heard a knock at the door. "John? Are you okay? You've been in there for quite a while." It was his doctor. John opened the door and walked out. "Sorry, I- uhh- I got distracted"

"That's okay. I just wanted to tell you that we've run some tests and Sherlock and everyone else you were talking about don't exist." John looked at her as if she had just insulted him, and she kind of did. "What the hell do you mean? Are you telling me I lived in a flat with someone who didn't exist this whole time? I'm not stupid."

She sighed and took him to a room down the hall. It was full of computers and doctors dressed like her. John saw his name across a computer screen to his right. He looked at it closely. "See this is your file. As you can see, you've never lived in or even near 221b Baker Street.

"But I swear I've lived with Sherlock! I lived in 221b Baker Street, you understand? Don't try to convince me otherwise because it's not gonna work!" John said, getting a bit annoyed at the woman's 'ignorance.' The doctor sighed. "Well we are going to give you a therapist until you recover."

John stood up straighter so he could look her in the eyes. "Listen you are really pissing me off! I don't need to recover from anything! I am perfectly normal!" She backed down a bit, hoping to calm John down. "Okay, well let's head back to the room so you can relax. I completely forgot about your leg." John wanted to resist, but he also didn't want to push them so much that they admit him into a mental hospital. He trudged back to the room and laid down on the neatly made bed. He was thinking about everything that's happened to him since he woke up.

_Has it really been two years?_

He thought to himself. John eventually got his racing thoughts to slow down as he took a small nap.

He was woken up by a new doctor. This one was a man with dark skin and dark brown hair piled on top of his head. He had a little bit of facial hair and smelt of a soft floral scent. His teeth were straight for the most part, and they were a darkened white.

"Good morning John. Did ya sleep well?" The new doctor asked. "My sleep was alright. I've had worst nights." John replied, sitting up now. The doctor held a tray of breakfast. It had eggs, bacon, a muffin and a glass of milk. "I brought you some breakfast. Eat up and get dressed. You have to go to therapy in an hour.

The doctor left John to eat and came back with a set of clothes to change into. It was a beige jumper and a pair of trousers. "You can change into these once you're done." The doctor said and left again. John finished his breakfast and set the tray aside. It took him a moment to get up, but once he did, he took his set of clothes to the washroom and changed into them.

They fit perfectly and his fixed his hair so it wasn't out of place. He smiled softly into the mirror, thinking that he will be able to see Sherlock again. He doesn't want to believe that his only friends don't exist, not yet.

John walked out to see his first doctor sitting in a chair. She got up and walked towards the door, expecting John to follow. "Ready, John?" John sighed and slowly nodded as he followed his doctor down the hall.


	2. Therapy Session

They passed many doors. They were all exactly the same. The white tiled floor was polished, except for along the walls. The walls of the corridor were light blue. They eventually reached the main entrance to the hospital and followed his doctor out into the bright outdoors. There were many cars driving by on the busy street. The sky was mostly clear except for a few clouds here and there. John took a deep breath. It's been a while since he's been outside, and it felt good. He found himself smiling like a clown, but a happy clown. He pictured himself on his way back to the flat when he got in the red car. It was small, with only a driver's seat and a passenger seat. His doctor got into the driver's seat and buckled up. John sat back and watched as the many buildings zoomed passed him.

The building where John was taking therapy was big and grey. He took in the view. The windows were identical and neatly placed, a small garden was planted by the door, and the door was big and brown. "I will be here in two hours. Try to be nice." John's doctor said. He looked back at her and he slowly started walking towards the door. He opened it, and found it to be quite heavy. It nearly squished him at first, but he was able to push it open far enough for him to get inside. When he walked through the door, the building had a heavy scent of coffee. John didn't mind the smell; in fact, he could go for some coffee too. He walked up to the front desk and said he had an appointment here. "Ah yes, are you John Watson?" the woman at the desk asked. Her hair was done up neatly and she had brown eyes. Her hair was light brown- like Molly's. Her complexion was like Molly's, too. She looked a lot like her. It was as if she was Molly. John shook that thought out of his head.

"Yes, I am John." He said. She smiled and got up to take him to his therapist's office. They didn't talk much along the way, for the walk wasn't very far. She gently knocked on the door and a call on the other side said, "Come in." The woman opened the door. Inside the room sat a woman of dark skin with really short hair. She had on a light pink blouse and her head was turned toward the now open door. "John?" she asked. "Yes, I am John. That's me." John quietly said. Come in and have a seat. John started towards the chair sitting across from his therapist. "My name is Doctor Truman." She said as she held out a hand, expecting John to shake it. He eventually did with a firm grip as they looked into each other's eyes. "So according to what I was informed, you are having trouble understanding that your friends don't exist. Am I correct?" She said, looking down at her keyboard then back up at me. "I- Yes. Yes, I am having trouble believing that I… I dreamt up my best friends." John admitted. "It's okay. There are actually some more people with the same problem here. Maybe someday I can have all of you here for a group therapy session. Would you be okay with that?" She asked. It didn't seem like such a bad idea to John, so he agreed to that. Doctor Truman kept asking John about what memories he holds from his 'fictional friends.' 'Fictional Friends' was what Doctor Truman said they were going to call his friends from his coma. After many minutes of protesting, John finally agreed. With every memory John explained thoroughly, Doctor Truman sat write there keeping her pen busy on paper. She had been recording the keywords John had said. Some of the keywords read, "Living together, serial killing cab driver, demonic dogs, and reading people like a book." John kept talking, memory after memory. He was calling everything from his time as a colleague of a consulting detective.

"Sally Donovan completely and utterly despised Sherlock. It seems as if the only thing she talked about was how much of a criminal Sherlock was. In my eyes, he was the exact opposite. He was a hero. Believe it or not, but he actually jumped from a building once. Pretty crazy, I know, but he did survive." John said, smiling at his memories. "How do you know he survived?" Truman asked. John smiled and shook his head. "I don't know how he did it, but one day which seemed like forever since that day he jumped, he ran into me as I was on my way to a date. The woman I had been dating, Mary, probably would've forgiven me, but she didn't understand that I had been devastated about Sherlock's death. I never told her, because I figured she didn't care, and I was trying my best to forget him." Truman's pen went faster and faster, collecting more information.

She slowly nodded her head as she studied her paper, now covered in words. "Okay, well our time is up. We can finish this next session, sound like a plan?" She asked. John smiled and nodded as he closed the door. The lady at the desk wasn't at the desk anymore. Someone else took her place, but he couldn't see who they looked like because their back was turned to him.

The car, which held his doctor, was sitting outside of the doors. John got in quickly. "So how was it?" His doctor asked. "It was okay. I got to recall a lot of good memories, so it made me feel good." She smiled and turned her head to the road. She started driving back to the hospital. John felt like a little kid telling his mum all about his day after the first day of school. "Doctor Truman is my therapist. She told me that there are many cases like mine. Are they at this hospital?" John asked, looking out of his window. His doctor shook her head. "I don't think so. If there is, I don't know about them."

"Oh. Well I guess that's okay. I'm going to meet them soon. We are going to have a group therapy session soon that will have all of us." John said with an excited hint in his voice. When John got back to his room, he laid on his bed and watched the telly until dinner was served to him. He had soup with potatoes in it and a few biscuits for desert. After his doctor took his -now clear- plate, he fell asleep.


	3. War Dream

His dreams were nothing out of the ordinary that night. When he woke up he instantly forgot them. His doctor didn't come in that morning. After taking a nice long shower, John got dressed in an apple red collared shirt with long sleeves and a pair of dark blue jeans. He made his bed and left the room. His leg hurt more than it did yesterday so he requested to use a cane. A man at the front desk gave John a used cane that was silver and extended to different lengths. The gray handle was slightly soft and big enough to rest his hand on.

Nothing much happened that day, aside from John learning how to walk properly with the cane he was given, so he went to bed early. That night, he dreamt that he was back in war, but this time he was dying. He looked around him for help; his vision was blurring. He felt abandoned, for the only people were rushing passed him as if he wasn't there. Once the army was finished flying by the wounded soldier, he noticed a man staring at him sympathetically. John knew exactly who he was with just a quick glance. It was his best friend- his only friend- Sherlock Holmes. "Sherlock!" John yelled as loud as he could, flinching at the shock of pain he got from that. He was shot in his stomach. Sherlock didn't seem to register that John was there. He looked as if he were lost. Looking around, Sherlock shrugged and walked away from John. "Sherlock! I'm over here!" he tried once again. Sherlock faded into the war dust and gunshots. Helplessly, John lay in a growing puddle of his crimson blood.

John managed to stay asleep the entire night, but was startled when he was woken up by his nurse. "I'm sorry, John. I didn't mean to startle you." The nurse smiled politely and helped John out of bed. "You have therapy today, so get ready and meet me outside in fifteen minutes. John nodded and rose from bed. This time, he wore a black and white striped jumper.

When he in the car, they zoomed off towards the big and dull building. "Same as before, John, two hours." John got out of the car and walked inside again. "John Watson." He said at the front desk. The woman who looked like Molly was there. "Hi John. It's the same room as last time."

"Oh, right. Thanks." John said and approached his therapist's office. There was a lot of talking from different voices inside the small office, so he decided to knock in case it was a meeting. "Come in." The familiar voice of John's therapist spoke. John slowly stepped inside and took in all the familiar faces in the room. "Hello John. In case you haven't noticed, these are the people that I was talking about. Everyone, this is John." John stared in shock at all of the familiar faces flooding the room.


End file.
